


The Wedding We Wanted

by writingtheworks



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman - Fandom, Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: BatCat, DC Comics Rebirth, F/M, Marriage, Secret Identity, Secret Marriage, basically a spite fic because it was 3 AM and I was mad, dc doesn't do their bs, jason beats the hell out of the joker while Bruce and Selina get married, the wedding but it actually happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-04 20:52:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15155384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingtheworks/pseuds/writingtheworks
Summary: The wedding we wanted. It wasn’t what we got, but whatever.





	The Wedding We Wanted

**Author's Note:**

> Due to the unfortunate (but not surprising) outcome DC gave us on The Wedding, I decided to fix it. So, here’s what I want: Bruce and Selina getting married, and Jason Todd only being late because he’s kicking the shit out of the Joker in a parking lot somewhere. Hope you like! =D 
> 
> (This is partially inspired by @jerseydevious‘s fic “Cat Mouth”, which is the best BatCat fic I’ve ever read, ever. You SHOULD read it. It shows a lot of what I think about Selina and Bruce’s relationship: they’re a little messed up, yeah. But they’re both messed up, and they can do that together. If you see this JD, you’re an MVP and I hope you don’t mind that I tried my hand at some of the concepts you brought up. Thank you!)
> 
> EDIT: I was thinking about this fic and how rushed it sorta was, so I went back in and fixed my FOOLISH mistakes. Alfred is at the ~super secret special ceremony~. When I had Bruce originally ask, “Can I… be happy?” I was mocking King. Every time I reference his #50, I’m mocking him (then I add good stuff to fix it), but I noticed I did that already so I changed it to what it should be:
> 
> Bruce is already happy, he just wants to make sure Selina is happy too.

****Bruce sighs.

It's the first full-lung sigh, full-lung  _noise_ that Dick has ever heard him make. He's heard the whole range of it; the little  _hrn_ s, short and displeased; huffs of air, of laughter, cut short through his nose because Batman  _doesn't_ laugh; breaths drawn against Dick's shoulder, one mountain of a hand combing through his curls, his voice rumbling like a sleeping giant in Dick's ear, " _It's okay. I'm here._ "

At the noise, Clark inched out of the way of Bruce's reflection and shot Dick a look that screamed,  _I've never heard him make that one before._

Dick raised his eyebrows,  _Me neither_.

At least, Dick thinks, it sounds  _pleased_. It's Bruce's last effort at cleansing the worries and the paranoia for the night—like  _that_ was even possible—and to just pretend that this was real for him. He was going to marry Selina Kyle.

Regardless of how long Bruce had thought it, it still couldn't sink into his skin. This wasn't real. It couldn't be, because there was an ache behind Bruce's eyes that he couldn't explain (correction: didn't  _want to_ , because we all know what that stinging meant), so maybe he hit his head too hard. Maybe this was a dream. He'd wake up in the cave and Selina wouldn't be there, there would be no ring, and she wouldn't be there. This had to be a dream.

(He knew it wasn't. He'd checked the books in the library that morning; every single one of them had words that Bruce knew, that he could read and digest like he could feel that warm feeling in his belly whenever he saw her. It felt impossible. But it was  _true_. This couldn't be a dream, because you can't read in dreams. The books never have words. But Bruce had enough un-said words in him that he was boiling over.)

 _I love you, Dick_ , he wanted to say.  _You are my whole world. You are my sun and my moon and all of my stars. I wish I could be better for you, I wish I could make you happy. I don't deserve you. I never have. I never will. But I love you, and you are my son,_ he wanted to say.

 _Thank you, Clark_ , he wanted to say.  _For understanding. For staying, even when I've been an ass_.  _You are my family. My brother. I wish I could be half the man that you are, wish I could be everything that you want me to be. I'm glad you're here_ , he wanted to say.

"Are you okay, sir?" Alfred asked.

 _I'm better than okay, Alfred,_ he wanted to say _. I wish I could explain it._

Instead, Bruce fiddled with his tie for the thousandth time. "Yes."

"Great," Clark said. He put a hand on Bruce's shoulder, squeezing. Alfred smacked Bruce's attempts to "fix" his tie away, pulling it into place in a single smooth tug. "It's okay to be nervous, you know. I was."

"Hmn," Bruce said. He shot Clark a look, " _You_  would be."

Clark and Dick chuckled. Bruce's lip quirked.

A silence filled the room. It was cool and serene. It was a silence from Dick's childhood, where he'd lay his head in Bruce's lap while Bruce read, his fingers knotted in Dick's hair.

"Any word from Master Jason, as of yet?" Alfred questioned. His face pinched in the  _I'll-drag-him-here-myself_ sort of way. He began to fight with the curtains as Dick checked his phone, and Bruce's head turned away, waiting for a  _no_.

 _I'll be there_ \- Jason  
_Might be a little late, tho_ \- Jason  
_Ran into a guy we know_ \- Jason

Dick knew better than to question who this man was. Jason would only tell him what he'd tell him, and never if Dick persisted. He was private, protective, in that way. But Dick felt a sweetness tuck in his cheeks and for no reason he understood, he smiled.

"He says he'll be here," Dick said. "Just had to take care of something first."

_

The low grumble of a car fell through the night. It was bland in color and design, nondescript but for the peeling of its paint and the age of the model. The only special thing about the car was the whine as it drove, even the motor unwilling to be handled by the driver at the wheel, each frantic whisper spilling into the street and snaking down alleyways like the fading screams of a dying victim. And of course, the fresh blood coating the back seat.

" _I'm going to be late_ ," the driver hissed, slamming his hands down on the steering wheel. The car lurched and squirmed at his touch. The corpse of the car's owner rolled in the backseat. Smoke was hissing from the rear wheels, air crying out in relief for their new escape.

He slammed his hands on the vinyl again, and again, and again, but the car wouldn't move. " _Hhh. Hehehh._ This is  _not_ a very funny joke."

Lamplight splayed upon the street, a lone hope in the darkness. But at the sight of this driver—this  _monster_ , because it felt impossible for him to ever be a  _man—_ it flickered in fear, daring enough to show a sliver of ugly, bleached cheek.

A shadow, mercifully, bid the light away from the horrid face. The driver stared up at the shadow, pupils pinpricks of hate and annoyance and a Pandora worth of evil, and spoke with a voice like sour milk. "I expect you're here to stop me from coming.  _Hehheh._ "

The Joker's reflection sneered at him from the shadow's face.

"Right, little bird?" He grinned, a wound opened by a knife. It was like staring fear in the face, feeling it drag its nails down your spine in a man-made chill. It told you exactly how you were going to die. It was a smile that made you  _want_ to die, made you  _want_ to run. It was a terrible smile.

"No," The Red Hood spoke. Even with the helmet on, the driver knew the shadow was smiling too. It was a beautiful smile. "Just for fun."

Then, the window shattered.

_

Selina doesn't know what kind of flowers they are. They came to life in Pamela's hands, winding and biting around her arms with the ferocity of a newborn entering the world for the first time. She says something snappish about sacrificing a whole  _dozen_ of her green. But she still gives them to Selina, cuts them for Selina, and furrows her brow when Selina pricks her thumb on a thorn.

"Damn," she says, softly, putting her thumb in her mouth.

"Bad luck," comments Holly.

"No," Lois remedies. She steps up from her place preening Selina's dress, offering her hand, "Not at all. Same thing happened to me, when I got married, actually. Must be a good sign..."

There's a thin white scar in the first joint of Lois' thumb, aligned with the folds of her palm. Selina's reminded of the scars  _she_ has, the gnarled burns, the lashes, the jagged edges and the scrapes where her skin isn't smooth anymore. She's reminded of the thoughts about her dress, sticking her fingers down her throat after every meal just so she could fit into it.

She's reminded of Bruce, wiping the blood and spittle off her lip. She's reminded of Bruce, sitting there on the bathroom tile with her and kissing her temple, "I want to marry you. But not... like  _this_. Unhappy."

" _You_ do," she said. "Make me happy. Safe."

"Then, I do." He said.

"I do." She agreed.

Then they sat there for an hour or two. For a while, they said nothing, and that was fine with her. She liked the quiet. Funny thing was, Bruce didn't. Knew it was necessary, yes. But the difference between them was that Bruce got his silence from a hollow childhood home much too big for him, and Selina got her silence from a cramped apartment in the merciful spaces between her parents screaming at each other. So Bruce started talking about his kids. Tim accomplished this, Damian complained about that, Cassandra completed each. Selina listened avidly, watching for the tilt of Bruce's lip.

"Tha's real funny," Harley giggled, holding her calves against her thighs and rocking on the nearby bench, "Should'a been bad luck, but it's good! Perfect for your weddin', Kitty!"

"Yeah," Selina said. She didn't know exactly what Harley meant by it—it was rare that anyone did—but she supposed it was well-intentioned, and nodded.

She was looking in the mirror again, looking at that damn dress with the creeping feeling that she still didn't look how she wanted. Like her mom did. Befor—She tried hard to think about something else, anything but the thick ropes of blood pooling from her mother's wrists, and replaced the image with the scars along Bruce's. The warmth of his hands.

She imagined Brian, her father. He was  _never_ her parent—never someone who cared. The only thing he cared about was drinking and hurting, and the only thing he ever did was tell Maria Kyle what she was  _supposed_ to look like. He hurt. And he hurt. And he hurt. Until Maria Kyle was gone, and Selina was here, promising herself that  _one day_ , she would find somewhere safe. And she would never ever lose that place the second she did.

She imagined the warmth of Bruce's hands again. "... _Purrfect_."

_

He was thrown out of the car. Hurled into the street, paper bones crumpling and old fractures bubbling to the surface like hot lead. To anyone else, it would've burned. Anyone else would have wanted it to stop. But he felt a boot connect with his grin, and smiled. It felt  _good_.

"Go on, little bird—" He pushed himself onto his hands, spitting out a tooth that had been knocked loose. The man didn't let him finish.

Red Hood kicked him again. In the dirty space between his skinny ribs, where a heart beat without good reason. He said nothing. But he thought everything, every dirty curse he could think of, and let the words flood out of him through another hit. Underneath him, the Joker crumbled like aging tarmac.

Bruce wouldn't thank him. Bruce wouldn't see it as something to be grateful for, but that didn't matter. Jason wanted to give him  _one night_. One damn night without the bastard underneath his foot sticking a knife into their backs. Bruce would be mad, later, yeah. But Jason would make sure he and Selina had their one moment. Just one.

He picked the monster up by the hair. Bruce would never be thankful, but at least Jason could feel a little even with the man that had once given him a father.

_

"Stairway to heaven," Tim remarks.

He's not wrong. _He rarely is_ , Bruce thinks. The stairwell to the roof of Finger Tower feels unreal, but all of his questioning thoughts of reality had faded away. The gravity of what was now happening had slipped by him, leaving behind the soft weight blanketing his shoulders, the one that reminded him he was going to see Selina.

Cassandra tilts her head to the side, flashing him a smile and grasping his hands just long enough to squeeze his fingers. Tim translates it for him, even if both already knew what it meant. "We'll be waiting for you."

"Thank you," Bruce murmurs. He holds Tim's shoulder, hoping that he understands what the two words mean.  _Thank you for staying_ , he wants to say,  _I love you both. More than I've loved anything._

"Try not to get  _too_ lost in her eyes, okay?" Kate snickered.

Bruce muttered, amused. "I'll try."

"Good luck," Duke laughed. Bruce's lip quirked again.

Clark pats him on the shoulder. Works him out of his trance as best he can, and then Alfred is opening the doors and they're heading up this little concrete stairwell. It's not plain. There are little chips in the steps, and a crack or two across the wall. The railings chipping off in places. The door at the top seems heavy, and there's a lot of steps to reach it.

Dick is at his right, as he's always seemed to be. Clark is just a little ahead of them both, trying to get to the door first, trying to open it for them so he can linger behind. Alfred has a hand on Bruce's back, guiding him up the steps.

"Can I... make her happy?" Bruce whispers.

Dick chuckles. He bows his head, bobbing back up again with a boyish grin. " Are you kidding me? You've made a lot of people happy, B. I think it's just silly to say that you haven't made her happy already, too."

_

Jason rears back the Joker's skull. It's hard, and he holds it there, letting the bone jut just a little farther then it should.  _I could snap it_ , he thinks with a sudden viciousness, crawling up his throat like bile,  _I could end it right now_.

The monster bares his teeth. Opens his maw to laugh. Jason slams the smile shut against the car door before he can, and thinks,  _No. Just this once... For the old man._

_

Selina shuts her eyes, bows her head, and lets herself  _laugh_. Let's the sound fill the cavity of her chest like a balloon, something to keep her afloat when her feet are rooted too hard in the dirt. It echoes in the stairwell. She feels it hum inside her chest.

" _Really!_ " Holly says. Her hand in Selina's is cool and gentle, "I've never seen him so happy before."

"You got  _one_ glimpse of him— _one_ ," Selina said, raising a finger for emphasis.

"I know," Holly raised her brows, "That's what I'm saying. I don't know him like you do... but he was happy. Like  _I'm-getting-married-today_ happy. Oh, hey—you  _are_ getting married!"

Selina leaned against the rail, chin tipping back and eyes closing shut. The air smelled like new dress and old perfume. It smelled like Holly. It smelled like the bouquet of flowers in Selina's hand, like the iron of the blood the thorns had risen, and the iron of the blood Selina summoned when she dared to clutch the flowers just a little bit tighter. It brought her back here. The  _sting_. It made things real, because for them blood had always been there when things were real.

"Say it," Holly said. She squeezed Selina's hand.

Selina breathed. "I'm getting married."

"To who?"

" _Batman_."

They snickered together, into each other's shoulders. Into the air, where it rang with the barely-there scent of blood.

There was a knock at the top of the stairs. On the heavy door.

Holly broke away from Selina. She stood in front of her, looked up into her face, staring with the same sense of hope that she'd always stared at Selina with. No one looked at her like that. No one ever looked up in the sky and hoped Catwoman would come. No one, ever, but for Holly Robinson.

Holly pulled a veil from somewhere in her dress. She raised it, let the light latch onto it and glitter in every way it wanted, and neatly laid it on Selina's hair. It was, rightfully, a pair of cats ears. She could easily imagine the silent remark Bruce would make with his eyes at the detail.

"You're gonna be a married woman in a couple minutes." Holly smiled. "Any last words,  _Miss_ Kyle?"

Selina grinned, and they purred together. " _Me-oww._ "

_

Jason let him drop. It was without gentleness, without luxury or ceremony. He let the body drop. Let the glass shatter, and let the light catch onto it like it caught on the blood in the backseat.

He flopped down on the curve. He stared at the body, at the breathing of an unconscious man. His pulled off his helmet with a hiss, tires deflated, body deflated, and hands as steady as they had ever been. The bat on his chest curved toward the light, reclining in it. It was a pale yellow in the streetlight, a crimson layer beneath.

Under the ghostly shade of pale yellow, under the shadow of flittering moths and dust, Jason pulled out his lighter and lit a cigarette.

_

" _Cat_?"

" _Bat?_ "

"You look..."

"'Sweet of you."

Bruce lifted her at once. Selina's arms wrapped around his neck, smoothed against the angular curves of his cheeks, and brought him toward her. He paused only once, admiring her—not the dress, not her features, but  _her_ as a whole—in the awe-filled way that only he could. She found herself doing the same. She found herself falling into his warmth again.

"Hi," she said.

"Hello," he whispered.

They kissed. Maybe it was cheating. Maybe it wasn't traditional, and maybe they shouldn't have, but this was their wedding and they were them. An Amazon had just opened her script to officiate their union. An alien stood with his hands clasped, an acrobat observed as their witness, and a teenage girl looked on with messy hair. This was  _their_ wedding. And it belonged to no social standards, no normalcies. Only to themselves.

" _Knew they would do this_ ," Clark muttered, smiling.

" _Let them_ ," Diana responded, amused. " _It's their night._ "

_

"It's real late. Didn't hear a lot of noise, and this one usually makes too much," Gordon said, nodding to the man two of his officers were cuffing. "Thank you."

Jason watched under his helmet with hawks eyes, staring, waiting, for the Joker to make a move. He watched until they had dragged him through the back of the police van, and stared at the spot where he was until it drove off. Even then, his eyes found a way of jumping back to the pavement where it had once sat.

"Guess it's a special night," Jason said.

He moved toward the edge of the crime scene, already activating his bike with the communicator in his helmet when Gordon spoke again.

"And Batman?" He asked. "That tonight?"

"Yeah," Jason said. Everyone had heard about the wedding. Even if you didn't live in Gotham, even if you lived on the goddamn moon. You knew about the wedding. "He sends his regards."

"Give him mine right back," Gordon nodded. His coat billowed in the high-city wind, kicking up around his ankles. "And tell him: Next time, I want an invitation."

"I'll try. Now, if you'll excuse me," Jason hummed. He threw his leg over the bike, revving it once and feeling the motor come to life beneath his hands. Felt the blood on his gloves. "I have a reception to get to."

_

"I'm glad it's you," Selina whispered. "I'm glad it's you, and no one else."

(It was Clark's turn for the handkerchief. He'd had it for five minutes, but it looked like he was going to need it for the rest of the night, so Diana wiped her tears on her bracelets instead. Alfred came prepared; he pulled out a second and persistently hid behind it,  _not_ crying,  _definitely_ not.)

"I am arrogant. Isolated. Insensitive, and everything everyone else believes I am." Bruce said, "But I can be more than that.  _You make me_ , more than that. You are... my light. My hope. Why... I do what I do. I need you... so I can help people. So I can save the day."

"And you say you're not a romantic," Selina said. (Her mascara and eyeliner were  _certainly_ not waterproof.)

"Our vows," Bruce said, like that gave an answer. There was a barricade in his throat and it felt like he couldn't breathe. There was an ache behind his eyes and Selina's thumb was wiping something off his face. It had never felt  _good_ to cry before, but his chest was light and there was that warmth blanketing over him again. He remembered crying; when Jason died, when Stephanie died, when Damian died. This felt nothing like that at all.

They both looked at Diana, their hands bound and wrapped around each other with white-knuckled grips. The wind was whipping bits of Selina's hair into her face and Bruce kept fussing it out of the way, the veil was snapping and pulling with the strength of the breeze, and Bruce finally got tired enough of it that he pulled it off.

"There are two-pages worth of passages that I could read, as by tradition," Diana said. She looked between Selina and Bruce, eyes not daring to escape the others, far more invested in their own company than two pages of what Bruce would deem  _rambling_. "Should I continue, or skip to the good parts?"

"Continue," Bruce said. He squeezed her hands the best he could, with all the fractures he'd gained over the years.  _I want to prolong the ending_ , he thought,  _because my endings are never happy_.

"Continue," Selina agreed. She squeezed back, telling him,  _I don't want this to end either_.

So Diana read. There were parts of the blessing of Amazonian origin, deeply rooted in classical beauty and art, and other pieces she had to have written herself. There was a paragraph about Gotham. About what she could have been, what she  _will be_ with Bruce and Selina, because of Bruce and Selina. Everything that he had wanted; his city, his people, healthy, and her safety. Everything that she had wanted; her city, her people, forgiving, and his happiness.

Maybe it wasn't exactly what was said. Bruce had zoned out once or twice, the cool breeze against his aching skin, her face inclined toward his. Happy. And safe.

Selina admitted it: She had stopped listening halfway through. It wasn't Diana's fault. It was  _Bruce_ , and his quirked lip, and his warm hands. He was happy. And home.

"In order to be lawfully wed, the State of New Jersey requires that you both publicly declare that you take each other as spouses. Please face each other and when asked, respond by saying, _I do_." Diana instructed.

They bound their fingers, wrapping around one another's forearms. The lasso was warm and weightless, igniting the moment it was looped around their limbs, shrinking the world down until it was big enough for only them. Bruce fidgeted under the light. Selina found a thick vein under his suit and began to stroke it with her thumb.

"And so, bound by the lasso of truth, do you, Bruce Thomas Wayne, take Selina to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, to be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?" Diana asked.

"I do," Bruce said. His voice was low, raspy, a whisper that he was afraid to voice. Just in case this wasn't real.

"Bound by the lasso of truth, do you Selina Kyle, take Bruce as your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, to be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?"

"Hell yes. I do," Selina said. A flutter of laughter arose from the witnesses. (Clark's caught in his throat, choked up. Alfred's was a snort.)

"Then by the power vested in me by the state of New Jersey, I now pronounce you,  _married._ You may kiss." Diana said.

They pulled each other forward in the same breath. They flattened against the other, hands carding down faces and necks, until their lips met. It was completing. A new breath of air, a new breath of life, in which both had needed for the longest time.

Bruce bowed his head, pressing his nose into Selina's cheek. "Love you, cat."

Selina cupped Bruce's face, brushing away a stray crystal tear. "And I love you, bat."


End file.
